


To the Parental Unit

by AdventureAddict



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Self-Worth Issues, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventureAddict/pseuds/AdventureAddict
Summary: After cleaning up the incident with Shou Tucker, Riza Hawkeye felt more upset than she cared to admit, more than she wanted to show. So she sat down, and with a shaking hand, wrote a letter that she knew she would never send.
Relationships: Berthold Hawkeye & Riza Hawkeye
Kudos: 5





	To the Parental Unit

I hate that I will never be able to fully scrub you out of my skin. Sometimes I can still feel you clinging to me, and it makes me wish I could just peel my own skin off. I wish I could peel away my skin as easily as I do with a chicken, just a gross wet thing I could throw in the trash and forget about. 

But you're embedded in me even deeper than that, aren't you? No matter how much of me I slough off and throw away, no matter how much I scrub, no matter how much I grow and replace the parts of me you've touched, you'll still be there, won't you? I can see you in the mirror when I get ready for the day. I can still hear your voice in my head, criticizing my choices. I still flinch in fear when I think your disapproving eyes must be over my shoulder, looking down on my work. 

I hate, _I hate_ , that I can look at a little girl who was hurt by her father in a way no little girl ever should be, and yet I see myself. I hate that I can hear about this girl who was turned into a literal monster, and a deep part of me feels fear, wondering when everyone will notice the same monster in me. I hate that I can recognize how utterly _awful_ her story is, how I can see myself in her, and yet when I look back on our relationship, all I can do is make excuses for you. Like everyone else in your life did when I screamed and cried out for help. 

_He's your father. He doesn't always do things perfectly, but he must love you because he's your father. He_ means _well._

Except what you _meant_ to do doesn't really mean much when it comes to solving the problems I'm dealing with now, does it? You could have meant whatever you or anyone wants to claim, but I'm still the one who has to figure out how to deal with waking up in the middle of the night screaming in terror because I dreamed you were coming for me. I'm still the one who has to somehow figure out how to be strong enough to constantly see the same work you loved so much and not flinch, because the person I love more than anyone else in the world happens to do the same work as you. I'm the one paying the price for your _meaning_ not being clear, so don't you dare saddle me with the extra burden and claim it's my fault for misinterpreting your precious intentions. I was the child. I thought you were the moon and the sun. You were the one responsible for making sure I _knew_ without a doubt that you loved me and cared for me. It is _not_ my fault you didn't do your job. 

I hate that it feels like it is my fault. I know all these things logically. I know deep down that this isn't my fault. And yet... And yet. 

I spend so much time and energy making excuses for you that you'll never even hear. I beat myself up and save you the hassle even though you'll never even know I've done it. Every action I take every day, every little choice I make, all of it triggers more alarm bells in my head, more fear of what you would do if you were here to see me. I hate that I let you live in my head. 

I hate that even though all of this hurts in these millions of ways, it still hurts in another way. Because a small part of me is still grieving the relationship we'll never get to have. The relationship I once could see so clearly when I was a child, before it evolved into screaming matches and gaslighting. I used to picture a future where I was safe and happy and protected and _loved_ and it hurts that I can't see that relationship anymore. 

I hate that I still desperately long for that relationship. Even though I know it's impossible. Yes, it's impossible. We can't start on a new clean page when your hands are still covered in ink and every one of my pages has been smudged and smeared. 

We can't start over when I'm still trying to scrub you out of my skin. 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really ever done Riza POV before, which is interesting. Hopefully, this worked well for her. 
> 
> Sometimes self-care is writing a letter at two am that will never be sent.


End file.
